


Blue

by kaibasetos



Series: Colors [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7683274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaibasetos/pseuds/kaibasetos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a retrospective relationship study sort of thing, and this happened. Ta-da!
> 
> This has a companion piece from Kaiba's perspective which isn't finished, but I can't deprive myself of too much more sleep and I really want to post this tonight, so here it is. I hope everyone enjoys it and it can tide everyone over until the second part is complete!

Jounouchi realizes that if you ever asked him _why Kaiba_ , he wouldn’t have an answer.

It’s not a feeling that can be given a voice, not a feeling that can be communicated through something so loud and brazen as his words. He has no idea when the headstrong drive to prove to Kaiba that he was worthy of his attention and recognition transformed into the burning desire to capture his eye. He has no idea when the idea that Kaiba was too dramatic and pretentious to be taken seriously gave way to a yearning to know more about him, why he presented himself that way. He has no idea when the word _love_ first crossed his mind -- if it even did, or if it was the spider whose web he didn’t notice he was trapped in until it was too late.

He just knows it happened slowly, then suddenly, the way the moon plunges dusk into night and steals the brightness from the sky.

He watches Kaiba work, his gaze falling on dark hair and bright eyes and broad shoulders and slim wrists, and he bites his lip. There's not one particular thing he can pinpoint about Kaiba that stands out -- it’s everything. It’s Kaiba himself, so beautiful it’s difficult to look at him for too long but equally as difficult to look anywhere else. It’s Kaiba’s pride and ambition, the habit of carrying himself like he’s more important than anyone else in the room, the inherent act of commanding attention. It’s Kaiba’s intelligence and sarcasm, the manner in which he responds to any opposition with an argument that is both infuriatingly articulate and incredible to bear witness to, like it’s a privilege to share space with someone so quick-witted and ruthless. Kaiba always goes straight for the jugular without a second thought, teeth poised to tear ribbons in flesh, and it’s exhilarating, awe-inspiring.

Kaiba is blue. Blue with the cold of his brilliant eyes, blue with the harsh light of the city he raised himself to claim, blue with the pulse in his veins that keeps him alive and fighting.

He thinks back to when they first met, when Kaiba brushed him off without a second thought with that cocky smirk on his face, and thinks of how he was fascinated from that very first moment. His fascination took different forms in the beginning; it was hostile, it was explosive, it was aggressive, it was motivated. He was hooked on Kaiba from the minute he spoke, and he needed to know everything. He wanted to egg Kaiba on, wanted to provoke him, wanted to shatter that arrogant facade to catch a glimpse of the humanity he knew lurked somewhere underneath. He knew if anyone was capable of doing so, it would be him.

He wasn't prepared for how right he was, and, more importantly, he wasn't prepared for the overwhelming depth of emotion that would show itself as an answer. He never anticipated that he would eventually be the one to see Kaiba at his most vulnerable, his most self-loathing. his most wounded and traumatized. He never knew there were shades of haunted memories beneath the layers of spite, shades of loneliness beneath the layers of bitterness, shades of blue beneath the black. There was so much that no one had ever seen, and it only made him desperate for more, for all of it.

He never thought he would see Kaiba cry. He never realized how much it would hurt.

It's impossible not to love him after seeing him at his worst.

His chest aches with it, sometimes, the pleasure of caring for someone so complex and boundless as Kaiba. It’s not just in the way everyone else knows him, haughty and aloof, but in the way Jounouchi has come to know him. It’s in the way he argues with Jounouchi, never giving an inch or a second, so fierce that their conversation seems to be the only thing on the planet that matters to him. It’s in the way he kisses Jounouchi like he’s trying to conquer, trying to win, trying to leave an imprint of all the words he can't say. It’s in the way his back arches so prettily underneath Jounouchi, the way he breathes Jounouchi’s name like he’s reciting prayer, the way he touches Jounouchi almost as though he thinks if his nails don’t leave scratches up Jounouchi’s back he’ll never have proof that they were really there together.

It’s in the way he looks at Jounouchi, sometimes like he’s the most foolish person in the world and sometimes like he’s the _only_  person in the world.

Jounouchi interrupts Kaiba’s work to beckon him to sleep, and for once, Kaiba doesn’t argue. He’s exhausted, all loosened tie and half-formed words, and Jounouchi grazes his knuckles against Kaiba’s cheek and receives a questioning gaze in response. Kaiba never stops analyzing him, never stops calculating his every move, never stops trying to figure him out. His reasons are so simple, and Kaiba never stops to consider that they may be; that it may just be as easy as Jounouchi treasuring him. That isn’t something that registers to Kaiba. Kaiba, whose tongue still rolls uncertainly over terms of endearment and phrases of affection as though they were never a part of his vocabulary before Jounouchi. Kaiba, who is still convinced that love comes with ulterior motives.

Kaiba, who still seems to view Jounouchi as being in the process of leaving him, who holds open the door as if he’s learned through years of experience that he shouldn’t blame anyone for taking the opportunity to run from him.

Jounouchi wants to be the one to slam that door closed.

When they lie together in the dim light of early morning, Jounouchi’s grip in Kaiba’s hair says he isn’t going anywhere. His body says he wants this, wants Kaiba, wants the boy built of ruin who fought his way to royalty. His eyes say admiration. His lips say longing. His touch says there’s nothing he needs more than Kaiba, more than the flaws and the temper and the ambition and the ego, more than the late nights and the shared breaths and the way they lock eyes in the dark. More than the blue.

His voice says _I love you_ , and there is no justification, no explanation, no  _why_.

He doesn’t need to find one.

He was meant to be here.


End file.
